


Did it hurt?

by scrubclub



Series: AryaxGendry Week 2018 [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M, Fluff, Is there a word for accidentally sleeping with your frenemy, Oops, Secret Identity, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 20:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15445200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrubclub/pseuds/scrubclub
Summary: Written for AryaxGendry Week Day 5: "Bad Pick-Up Lines"Featuring a bad pick-up line, a worse pick-up line, superpowers, and more!





	Did it hurt?

**Author's Note:**

> This work gets a little smuttier than I tend to write - I just could not make the plot work without it. So apologies if that's not your thing, and if it is, I hope it's readable!
> 
> This has very little to do with the prompt, but I was desperate to write these two as superheroes, so this happened. Thanks for your nice comments & kudos, you're all lovely. xx.

“Did it hurt?” The Bull asked, reshaping a large pipe that he had broken during the rooftop altercation. She tightened a zip tie around an unconscious captive’s wrists before looking up to reply. 

“What?” She asked, smiling, “When I fell from heaven?”

“When you were stabbed,” he replied, not returning the smile. She sighed. 

Nymeria moved to him and lifted her arm to prove that the only remaining evidence of the wound down the side of her torso was the leftover blood and the damage to her suit. “You know it heals, stupid.”

He touched the exposed skin gently, his lips parted in mild disbelief. Though he had seen her heal a handful of times before, he never seemed to get used to seeing her body mend itself so seamlessly and swiftly. He moved his fingers slowly down the incision in her suit and her breath caught. They stood like that for a moment, far above the streets, the city briefly calm beneath the stars. 

She looked up at him, wondering what he looked like under the bull-shaped helm that covered the top half of his face. The silliest parts of her mind sometimes wondered what his eyes looked like, what his true name was, what his life was like when he didn’t wear his mask. 

They had started making a habit of showing up when the other was in grave danger, despite the fact that he worked with The Brotherhood and she worked alone. At the end of the day, they were working towards a similar goal, she figured, so the occasional brief alliance was worthwhile, so long as the job got done.

The Bull seemed to remember himself and pulled his hand away quickly. “Nice work tonight,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He nodded towards the men, three members of the Frey crime syndicate. “That ice thing you did with your hands was sick.” 

Nymeria rolled one of the still-unconscious Freys over with her boot. “Take some credit for once, Bull. I was in over my head,” she gave him another smile, “I’m lucky you showed up.” This time her smile was returned. 

“We make a good team.” He was right, she knew. His super-strength and ability to manipulate any metal came in handy in a scrap, and her ever-evolving smorgasbord of powers spun enemies in circles. He was unshakeable and strong, she was tricky and fast.

“Is Dondarrion still trying to recruit me?” She said, teasing. “Or are you trying to flirt with me again?” The Bull paused with one of the unconscious Freys slung over his shoulder. 

“When did I try to flirt with you?”

“Uh, last week. _You’re so flexible, that must come in handy_ ,” she said, doing a barely passable impression of his deep voice. His neck went pink.

“I meant during fights, not... you know what I meant,” he said, looking flustered as he leant down to grab another Frey. 

“Sure,” she said with a grin, “Tell Dondarrion he’s welcome for the hostages.” 

“We appreciate it,” he nodded, hoisting the third Frey up.

“Thanks for showing up tonight, Bull.” 

“Anytime, Nym.” 

-

Her shower had taken longer than usual, what with all of the blood she had to scrub off of her midsection. She dried herself off, ensuring that she had missed no red spots along her side. She briefly considered her bed - empty, unmade, inviting - before pulling on her jeans. She needed a drink. 

The bar was surprisingly full despite the hour. It wasn’t a particularly nice place, but it was dark and the bartenders never questioned her solitary visits at bizarre hours. Most nights, no one bothered her at all. Just herself, her gin, and her tonic. 

“You know straws are bad for the environment,” a voice to her left said, and she turned, surprised. He was leaning against the bar and smiling, his eyes drifting to her chest and back to her face. He had cropped hair and wore a tightly fitted t-shirt. She gave him a look of confusion and he leant closer. “I can think of something else you can suck instead.” 

His smile widened and she turned to look at the shelves of liquor bottles behind the bar. She inhaled slowly. It was hard, sometimes, knowing she was capable of ending men like this in a heartbeat, and knowing that they weren’t worth it. Keeping her vigilante life and her regular life separate was important, and she wasn’t going to waste all of her efforts on one asshole a bar. But _man_ was it tempting. She took another deep breath, willing herself to use her words instead of her fists. 

“Excuse me?” a different voice said to her right. It was deeper, harder. She heard his barstool shift as he stood up. The man who had spoken first leaned back, looking almost frightened. “What did you just say to her?” The first man opened and closed his mouth like a fish. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you two were here together,” he sputtered, “I was just - ,”

“We’re not here together,” the new man said simply. She looked up at him and saw why the other guy had seemed so intimidated. He was tall and broad, with a strong jaw and bright blue eyes. His black hair was slightly damp and a few strands stuck to his forehead. She was glad she wasn’t the only weirdo in the city who showered at 2am. 

He raised his eyebrows at the drunk man, waiting for a response. The leerer seemed to shrink into his seat as she joined in and glared at him. “It was a joke,” he said, sounding unsure. They both continued to stare at him until he mumbled an apology and swiftly left.

“I could have handled it,” she said sharply as he sat back down.

“I don’t doubt it,” he laughed, “but you looked ready to hit him pretty hard. Figured I’d save you the bruised knuckles.” She couldn’t remember the last time a bruise had lasted longer than half an hour on her body, but she appreciated the thought.

“Thanks,” she said, offering him a smile. He was handsome. His own knuckles were bruised, she saw, and he had a fresh-looking scratch behind his ear. His eyes surveyed her and she felt a pleasant tingle run down her spine. She was so used to wearing a mask, she had almost forgotten how it felt to be exposed. It was thrilling.

“Anytime,” he said, tipping his bottle toward her and taking a swig. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this so late?”

“A girl like me?” She cocked her head. “What does that mean?”

He considered her for a moment. “Well,” he said after a moment, “You’re young, pretty, well-dressed. You’re not here to make friends, and based on how long you’re taking on that gin and tonic, you’re not here to get drunk. The only reason I can think of is that you have a job with terrible hours and shitty customers, like a waitress at one of those 24-hour diners or something.” 

“Are you a cop?” She asked. It would make sense, based on his size, his injuries, and his presence at a bar this late. She eyed him suspiciously - she didn’t trust cops, not in this city. Most cops in King’s Landing were either working for the Lannisters or working for people who were working for the Lannisters.

“A _cop_?” He sounded almost offended, “No, I’m just observant.” He shrugged. 

“What was the bartender wearing?” She asked, “The one who served you, the one whose shift just ended.” He blinked at her and furrowed his brow. He pressed his lips together and shook his head, defeated. 

“Alright, fair enough,” he said, “I guess I’m only observant when it comes to pretty girls who look disappointed when they don’t get to start bar fights.” She felt herself blush and rolled her eyes at him. 

“I’m a nurse,” she lied, “so you were right about the terrible hours. And you?”

“Security guard,” he said, and she opened her mouth to reply. “Which,” he cut her off, "is not the same thing as a cop.”

“It’s close,” she said. “I win.” He gave her a look that was equal parts amused and puzzled. 

“Were we competing?” He asked. 

“No,” she shrugged, “but I still win.” He laughed at her again. She liked the sound. She liked him. There was something appealing about the way he couldn’t seem to decide if he was confident or bashful. Plus, he was hot. She was sure he had noticed her looking at his biceps, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it. 

“So, what’s it like to save lives for a living?” He asked casually. She tensed. 

“What?” She replied, doing her best to keep her face placid.

“As a nurse,” he said, “Or do you work in psych or something? I just assumed - ,”

“Oh!” She said, shocked at her own stupidity, “Of course, no, it’s great... It’s not for the faint of heart, but it’s worth it.”

“I can only imagine,” he said, shaking his head. “Is that why you’re so tough?” His eyes glinted at her and his voice was playful but not mocking. 

“Maybe I’ve always been tough.”

“I’d believe it. With men like our friend over there lurking around, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to throw a few punches.” He smiled and she couldn’t help but smile back. She had beaten up her fair share of men at bars, and had enjoyed pleasant conversation with far fewer. She had never had a pleasant conversation about her willingness to beat men up. This guy was a first.

He shook his head in disbelief, chuckling, “ _Straws are bad for the environment_ … Do you think a line like that has ever gotten anyone laid?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“I think tonight could be a first,” she said, hardly believing herself as she met his eyes. He looked at her for a moment, as if to make sure that her hadn’t imagined her response. 

“Are you… do you want to - ,” 

“Do you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes!” he said, barely letting her finish the question. “Yes.” He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe his luck and hastily finished his beer. 

“Do you, uh, live nearby?” He asked, his voice both strained and excited. She shook her head. Another lie, but a necessary one. “That’s ok! That’s cool, I’m not far.” Seeing this ridiculously large and handsome man flush at the thought of taking her home did something to her that she couldn’t quite explain. She hoped he was serious about not living far away.

-

They were barely inside his apartment when she threw her arms around his neck, bringing their lips together. He kicked the door shut behind him and pulled his jacket off. Placing his hands on her hips, he backed them up against his kitchen counter with surprising force, causing her to gasp slightly as her lower back met the granite. 

“Shit,” he said, pulling away, “Are you ok?” His eyes searched hers with genuine concern. 

“I’m fine,” she said, pulling him closer again, but he still looked worried. 

“I don’t do this often,” he breathed, “or ever, really.” She smiled and shook her head. 

“I don’t either,” she admitted. It almost made her laugh - he had her pinned against his counter, their bodies so tightly pressed together that she could smell the soap on his neck, and they were blushing at each other like school children. 

“I don’t even know your name,” he said, looking down at her with a softness she wasn’t expecting. 

“Arya,” she said.

“Arya,” he repeated, his breath tickling her neck. He kissed her jaw lightly, causing her to let out an unwitting hum. “Arya. I’m Gendry.” 

“Gendry,” she said, trying it out. It was a sturdy name - it suited him. He inhaled sharply as she spoke and brought his face to hers. His left hand came up to the back of her neck and he kissed her again. 

She could tell he was being careful, what with him being far bigger than her. A small part of her wished she could tell him that he needn’t worry, that whatever harm his hands could do wouldn’t do any lasting damage, but she knew this was not an option. Besides, that would require too much explaining, and the last thing she wanted to do right now was remove her lips from his. 

Gendry kissed her fervently, his lips moving over hers with an eagerness that ignited a fire at the pit of her stomach. He nipped delicately at her lip, glancing at her briefly to ensure that she was alright with it. She smiled at him and wrapped her legs around him. He made a small noise that caused her to smile as she brought their lips together once again. 

He lifted her effortlessly, walking her out of the kitchen and into his bedroom, dropping her onto the bed as he pulled his shirt off. Her jaw dropped open, despite her best efforts. He smiled in a self-satisfied sort of way and joined her on the bed, positioning himself over her. Running her hand down his torso, she looked up at him and smiled. “Work out much?” she laughed. He shrugged nonchalantly and leant down to bring their lips together once more. 

After a few moments, his hand slipped up her side, unknowingly tracing her since-healed stab wound. He pulled away briefly to make sure that she was alright with his hand being where it was. In response, she pushed his shoulder and flipped him onto his back. She placed a leg either side of his waist and straddled him, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it aside. She felt his eyes trace her neck, her collarbone, the curve of her breasts. 

He sat up and kissed her lightly before moving his lips along her jaw, making a trail down to the base of her neck. She moaned as he kissed along her collarbone, occasionally biting or sucking on her skin to draw louder sounds from her lips. He moved her bra strap out of his way as he kissed her shoulder before he dropped his face to her chest. His lips followed a line down the center, his beard tickling the skin not covered by her bra. She reached behind her back and undid the clasp, enjoying the satisfied sound he made as the fabric fell away. 

She closed her eyes as he touched her, delicately tracing his thumbs over her nipples. Her body ached pleasantly, every touch satisfying her and every touch making her want more. She gasped as his lips found one nipple, his hand still over the other. He kissed it delicately before taking it between his teeth and biting down gently. She whimpered slightly and he pulled away, concerned. 

“Did that hurt?” he asked, searching her face. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“In a good way,” she said, bringing her lips to his lightly as she chuckled. She was not particularly familiar with one night stands. She wondered if they always involved slow, purposeful kisses and mid-act laughter. 

He flipped her onto her back once more and kissed down her stomach toward her waist. Nodding breathlessly as he looked up at her, she watched him unbuttoned her jeans and slide them away, tracing the hem of her underwear with his thumb. Bringing his lips to her inner thigh, he moved his way towards her center.

He took her underwear off and brought a hand to her, causing her hips to rise and her head to fall back. She gave up on trying to stifle her moans as he began to use his tongue. Warmth ran through her in waves. His hand gripped her thighs tightly, holding her steady as her body reacted. She shuddered as she peaked, crying out in pleasure. He kissed her hip bone and smiled up at her. 

“ _I don’t do this often_ ,” she said mockingly as soon as she caught her breath. “Sure you don’t,” she gave him a look of disbelief. He looked taken aback. 

“Is that your way of telling me I’m good?” He asked, a satisfied smile on his stupidly handsome face as he moved to lay beside her, propped up on his elbow. 

She glared at him playfully and pushed him back, shifting to lay beside him. Trailing her hand down his chest, she watched his eyes darken with arousal. She unbuttoned his trousers and took him in her hand. He let out a moan as she stroked him, and she moved forward to kiss him. 

“Do you have - ,” she started, but he was already reaching for his bedside drawer. He rid himself of his trousers and boxers and she swallowed, not sure why she was surprised. Every other part of him was big, too. 

He positioned himself over her again and looked at her with slight concern, as if he was afraid of hurting her. She hummed as he ran his fingers over her, desperate for him to fuck her and wishing he would stop worrying. 

“Please,” she whispered, and he obliged. He entered her slowly, causing her to bite down on her lip so hard she thought she might bleed. His hips rocking against hers in a slow rhythm as he thrust in and out. 

“Is that okay?” He asked as she threw her head back. Her response was lost in a cry of pleasure as he filled her and she traced her hands down his back. He sped up, holding her hips tightly as they moved together. 

She was reaching another climax when she felt a shock of ice briefly flash through her palms. Newer powers were harder for her to control and her icy hands were the newest trick that her body had developed. She willed herself to remain in balance, though this was difficult in her current position. A trace of confusion appeared in his eyes and she held her breath as he moved her arms down and pinned them no either side of her head. He ran his own hands over hers, interlocking their fingers briefly. As he moved his hands back to her waist, she internally thanked her bizarre DNA make-up for allowing her hands to go from icy to room temperature within seconds. 

He finished with a groan of satisfaction before collapsing beside her. “Wow,” he said after a few moments, “I have to find that creep from the bar and thank him.” She smacked his chest and he laughed. 

They lay looking at each other for a few moments until his eyes widened and he inhaled sharply. “I’ve hurt you,” he said, looking at her naked body in horror. She laughed and touched the spots he had left along her collarbone. 

“They don’t hurt, stupid,” she said, but he continued to shake his head. 

“Your wrists,” he said, “and your hips - and your _thighs_.” She looked down and was surprised to find that he had indeed bruised her in these places. This whole time she had thought he was being delicate with her, but he had managed to leave marks all over. She traced the handprint on her thigh and smiled at him.

“They don’t hurt,” she said. He looked at her apprehensively. “I promise.”

“I hope not,” he said, relieved, “I didn’t want to ruin such a good evening”. She raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Trust me, it would take a _lot_ more than a bruised thigh or two to cancel out everything else you did.” He smiled at that. 

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” he said, his eyes tracing the curve of her body, “You’re unbelievably flexible.” She blushed as his eyes met hers. His bed was warm, the pillow she lay on soft. She wasn’t sure how long they looked at each other before she drifted to sleep. 

\- 

Sunlight spilled through his window and onto the bed, waking her. He lay beside her, still asleep, his dark hair falling in seemingly every direction. Going home with a guy from a bar was so unlike her, so drastically different from her usual nights spent listening to police scanners and researching her enemies, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret the previous evening. She could hardly remember the last time she had slept so heavily. 

She sat up and stretched, knowing that she should head home shortly. The day would surely bring some kind of chaos, and she liked to be prepared. 

“Hey.” His voice was gravelly with sleep. She briefly considered how much the city would miss her if she gave up on being a vigilante crime fighting superhero and spent the rest of her days in this bed. 

“Hi,” she said, smiling at him. She stood up and pulled on her underwear and began to search for her bra. 

“You don’t have to go, you know,” he said, as she found it and put it on. 

“I do,” she said, hoping that her genuine disappointment was clear to him. She knew she would likely never see him again, and it pained her. He had been everything she could have asked for and then some. “Thank you for last night, though.” 

“Anytime,” he said, and she paused as she reached her jeans. His voice… 

“Pardon - ,” 

“Your bruises,” he interrupted, staring at her semi-dressed body in disbelief, “They’re gone.” He stood up, pulling his boxers on without taking his eyes off of her. 

She felt a flash of horror as she looked down at her unmarked wrists and thighs. He climbed over the bead to stand in front of her, touching the places on her collarbone that had been marked by him only hours ago. His brow furrowed. “That’s insane,” he said. 

Her mind was reeling. He had spent the whole night trying to be gentle with her, but had still managed to bruised her. His knuckles looked like they spent a lot of their time throwing punches. His voice, deep and steady. _You’re unbelievable flexible_. 

He had been staring at her neck but suddenly grabbed her hand, placing his fingers on her palm as if trying to find a pulse or… a temperature. 

Their eyes met, both sets wide with shock. He stepped back, his jaw hanging open. “No way,” he said, and then he threw back his head, laughing. 

“This isn’t funny, we - ,” 

“I finally find a girl that makes me stop thinking about you, and it turns out to be _you_.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I _knew_ you were hot.” 

“Excuse me?” She had no idea what reaction she might have expected, but this was not it. 

“Under your mask, I knew you were a knock-out,” he tugged a hand through his bed hair. “Gods, and I spent the whole evening worried I was going to break you.” There were a million pressing concerns going through her head, but they were all briefly interrupted by the thought of him _not_ holding back. 

“Listen,” she said, remembering herself, “this is serious! If you tell anyone - ,” 

“Why would I tell anyone?” 

“Even the Brotherhood?” She asked, and he shed his smile. 

“Not a soul,” he said, “I promise.” 

“My name - ,” she started. 

“You know mine, I know yours,” he said calmly, “We’re on even ground.” She took a deep breath. After a moment, she smiled. 

“Wait, why were you trying to stop thinking about me?” 


End file.
